


Brightly Burning

by LectorEl



Category: Batman (Comics), Pet Shop of Horrors
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LectorEl/pseuds/LectorEl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been seventeen years since the Drakes carried him out of the petshop, furless with his eyes still sealed shut. Tim’s memories of the place are dim and distant at best. Even he forgets he’s not human, half the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tim’s smile is soft and only a touch bitter. “I always said I was only going to be Robin for a while. It’s not your fault I let myself forget.”

“Where are you going, Drake?” Damian demands warily.

“Away. Some things need to end.” Tim shakes his head. “Tell your father I said you could have the Ducati.”

“I won’t give it back,” Damian tells him. “I mean it. If you leave, I won’t give it back if you come waltzing back in a month.”

Tim feels something that could almost be described as fondness. “Don’t worry, brat. I’m not coming back. Listen to Dick, be careful around Ivy, and if Bruce gets you anything for your sixteenth birthday, get rid of it _immediately._ ”

He swings his backpack up on his shoulder, and, nodding to Damian, walks out the manor doors.

It’s been seventeen years since the Drakes carried him out of the petshop, furless with his eyes still sealed shut. Tim’s memories of the place are dim and distant at best. Even he forgets he’s not human, half the time.

But where else can he go? The contract is broken. Broken three times, by his mother death, his father’s unfair demands, Bruce’s broken promise. Tim Drake is dead, Tim Wayne never was, and Robin…is Damian. He’s a nameless creature, without a family to call his own.

Tim lets his mind fall silent, and yields to the oldest, most inhuman parts of himself. Beneath everything shattered and betrayed, beneath Janet’s son and Jack’s boy, Dick’s little brother and Bruce’s Robin, there’s the animal he always was, and he lets it guide him home.

Tim walks until he doesn’t, and finds himself in front of ornately carved wooden doors. They’re locked, and Tim doesn’t know where else to go. So he doesn’t. He huddles in the foot of the stairwell, waiting numbly. It gets colder as the sun sets and the night passes. And still no one comes. Tim waits.

It’s nearly sunrise when a pale, elegant man steps off the street, down the stairs to the doors he waits before.

Tim swallows down a whimper. “Count D,” he whispers past wind-chapped lips. The Count startles, turning until his eyes settle on Tim.

“Lao Hu.” The Count kneels, ignoring the potential damage to his fine cheongsam. He reaches out, offering Tim his hand, palm up. A sudden sob forces its way out of Tim’s throat, and he falls, clutching the Count’s hand.

“Shhh,” the Count hushes, guiding Tim until his head is cradled in the Count’s lap. He slides one hand into Tim’s disheveled hair, stroking his back with the other. “It’s alright, Lao Hu. Everything is alright.”

The sounds of morning traffic start creeping down the stairs before the Count can coax Tim to his feet. The Count unlocks the petshop doors and ushers them inside. Tim pads beside the Count silently, grounded by the steadying grip on the back of his neck.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” The Count says. Tim nods. He toes off his shoes and curls up on the couch. Continuing not to think. The air is heavy with incense, heavy enough to weigh down on Tim’s eyelids. He yawns, staring off into nothingness.

The Count shakes him awake gently. Tim blinks, stretching, claws extending lazily as he works the ache out of his sore muscles. The Count frowns, fingers tracing over one of the many scars hidden under his thin fur.

“Who did this?” the Count asks, voice quiet but firm. Layered with all a kami’s still fury, unthinkable to refuse.

“That one?” Tim’s eyes slid shut as the Count resumes petting him. “Mugger. I think. Was going after a lady, I interrupted.”

“And this one?” Fingers move from his ribs to the line of white fur slashing through his ruff.

“Jason. He was mad at me for taking his old job after he died.” The Count continues to question Tim about his scars, coaxing from him the truth about this burn and that knife mark, the fading ligature marks around his wrist and the slick patches of scar tissue along his spine.

The Count asks, and Tim answers, until there are no more questions to ask. The hurt isn’t gone. He’s been raised human, and he has a human’s double-edged ability to remember old cruelties. But it’s distant, cushioned by the Count’s presence and the tangible reality of the shop where he was born.

It’s enough.

***

Tim pads out of the backroom on silent paws, drawn by an odd, familiar scent. Old grief, acidic salts, blood, and above all, age.

“Detective,” Ra’s says, surprise well hidden in his voice. Then he smiles, expression calculating. “Is your contract for sale?”


	2. Chapter 2

The Count stepped into the sitting room, a tea tray in hand, and stopped at the sight of Timothy and Ra’s in conversation. “I didn’t know you were acquainted with our guest, Lao Hu.”

“We used to fight sometimes,” Timothy said, voice heavy with sleep. Ra’s scratched at the base of one of his ears, and Timothy exhaled, purring. His tail twitched lazily, and his eyes fell shut again.

“Timothy- Lao Hu, you said?- has come in opposition with me under the direction of his adopted father.” Timothy made a noise of pain, and Ra’s switched to stroking the line of his back.

“Lao Hu, yes,” D said. He passed Ra’s a cup and took his seat across the table. “You know the man who inherited Lao Hu’s contract?”

Ra’s smiled at the distaste in D’s voice. “He is an honorable enough man. Merely careless with the hearts of those who love him.”

“If he could not care for Lao Hu, he should not have taken him.” D tapped at the table with his long nails. “He is lucky Lao Hu is so merciful. Any other creature from this shop would have savaged him for his failure to abide by the terms of their contract.”

“Timothy has always forgiven those he loves too easily,” Ra’s agreed. D nodded in acknowledgement, and took a sip of his tea.

“What subspecies is he? I don’t recognize the look of him,” Ra’s asked, changing the subject. Not that his lack of recognition was surprising, when dealing with one of D’s kind. Human conservationists could only wish to have their luck.

“Bali. Lao Hu is the last,” D said mournfully. “The tigers are not long for this world.”

Ra’s nodded. “Unless something is done.”

“You are acting again, then?”

“I am.” Ra’s took a sip of his tea. The kami were useful allies, and their goals aligned with Ra’s’ own. “I would appreciate if your honorable grandfather could assist me in testing the virus.”

D sighed. “I will tell Grandfather when I see him again.”

Ra’s glanced down at Timothy. As he was becoming accustomed to, his vision doubled, the sight of a small, darkly-colored tiger with its head in his lap overlaying the sight of Timothy, legs folded halfway to his chest and black hair splayed loosely over the fabric of Ra’s slacks.

“Is Timothy’s contract for sale? He couldn’t say either way,” Ra’s asked, stroking the curve of Timothy’s human cheek. Feeling both smooth human flesh and rough fur beneath his fingers.

“Under certain limited conditions. You must promise me to provide the proper care- Lao Hu is fragile yet.” D looked at Ra’s through his chin length hair, fixing mismatched eyes on Ra’s’ own. “I have known you since you were a young man. Mere carelessness is not the only way you have failed those devoted to you.”

Ra’s clenched one fist against his thigh. That was, of course, the downside to dealing with the Kami. Long familiarity. “I keep my word. Should I swear to care for Timothy, I shall.”

D inclined his head and lifted his cup to his lips. “The word and the spirit of a promise are different. Lao Hu’s needs may change, but the contract is static. How can I trust you will pay attention to the truth beyond the ink of your sworn word?”

“I am no fool, Count D. It would do me no good to leave Timothy to wither as did all those who have come before me.” Ra’s’ voice was cold. Very few would challenge Ra’s as D did. An annoyance he was glad to not often endure.

“I would think I’d have a voice in this,” Timothy interjected. He sat up, pulling humanity over himself like a cloak, until Ra’s saw only boy instead of tiger.

“And what is your opinion, Lao Hu?” D asked, smiling at the boy. Timothy glanced at Ra’s from the corner of his eye.

“Ra’s has always dealt honorably with me. I don’t see why that would change now.” Timothy rose to his feet and padded over to D’s side. “Besides- a friend of mine works for him. How is Pru, by the way?”

“Well,” Ra’s said, lips twitching at the abrupt change of topic. “She’s insisted on learning more about hand-to-hand since your disappearance.”

“I’d enjoy testing that,” Timothy said, a certain smug air hinting at his feline origins.

D chuckled, tension dissipating. “If this will make you happy, Lao Hu, who am I to stand in your way?”

“Thank you,” Timothy said quietly, standing up on his toes to whisper something in D’s ear before slinking over to Ra’s. D raised his hand to hide his laughter, and stepped into the store’s backroom.

“I don’t suppose you’ll share what you told him,” Ra’s said, giving his new pet an amused glance. Timothy smiled without speaking, and leaned against Ra’s’ side. He didn’t seem to weigh much more than a small, well-muscled teenager should- curious, given what he was.

Timothy seemed to sense where his thoughts were going. “I was the runt of the litter, and we ran small to begin with. I don’t weigh much more than eighty kilograms in truth.”

“That does help explain why you hide your origins so well all those years.”

Tim let out a low, rumbling purr. “Oh, new master of mine- that has _nothing_ to do with it. I got away with it because I am a better liar than any of them.”

“If you would sign?” D said from the doorway, worn parchment contract in hand.

***

Timothy padded out of the bedroom, fur still wet from the bath. He looked at the frozen tableau- Ra’s at his desk, Batman, Nightwing, and Robin in various positions around it- and made an amused sound low in his throat. Bypassing his former adoptive father, he made a beeline for Ra’s, and lay down at his feet. He yawned widely, showing off sharp fangs, making Nightwing take a step back. The look on his face was readable even to one unfamiliar with big cats- _shameless_ amusement.

“That’s a tiger,” Nightwing said, breaking the silence.

“I see your sons are following in your footsteps, detective,” Ra’s said dryly. He reached down to stroke Timothy’s barred head. “Indeed, Nimer is a tiger. It suits him well.”


End file.
